


Open Up

by kecleon



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-10 21:30:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13510155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kecleon/pseuds/kecleon
Summary: Sal has his reasons to avoid things; to keep secrets. It's all fine until Larry wants to know why Sal's locked himself in his room for three days.





	Open Up

A crackling echoed throughout Sal’s bedroom, causing the teen to groggily reach for his walkie-talkie. His fingers made light contact with the machine, before a loud thump signaled he had knocked it to the floor. Sal groaned, and pulled the blanket back over his head.

When another crackle was heard, Sal yawned, muttering “Screw off Larry…” before falling back asleep.

 

* * *

“Yo, Sal! Wake up!”

Blinking, Sal could see his bedroom light through his blanket.

“Saaaaaal....”

“I’m up.” Sal muttered, rolling away from his boyfriend, who was hovering over the bed.

“Dude, I’ve trying to wake you up for an hour! You’ve been avoiding me for three days now, Sal. What is -”

“Fuck off, Larry.”

The room went silent, and Sal pressed himself up against the wall, hugging his knees to his chest. He didn’t want to get into detail as to why he had been avoiding Larry, let alone talk about what had started the avoidance.

“Sal… I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Larry’s voice was soft, full of concern. It stung - Sal hated making Larry worry, but this was something he’d just rather not talk about with anybody. He knew that talking to Larry would probably make him feel better in the short term, but in the long term it'd probably make Larry feel bad, useless even, and only make Sal hate himself more.

Sal was good at keeping everything to himself.

Sal had learnt to keep his mouth shut early on, when in elementary school his teacher had berated him for being an “attention seeker" when someone had tattled that they had seen harsh, red marks lining the blue haired boys wrists.

Sal had managed to wiggle his way out of that - “I was playing roughly with my cat" - and nothing more had come of it. Since then, Sal had hidden in large sweaters or hoodies, disinterested in anything that could expose too much skin. He didn't want to burden his family anymore than he already did - being exposed for self harming was probably worse than being an anxious, depressive mess.

The bed dipped, and Sal stiffened as Larry wrapped his arms around Sal and his blanket cave. The taller boy's body pressed up again Sal’s, perfectly enveloping him in a hug. Sal could be feel himself relax slightly, almost content in his boyfriends arms.

“What’s been going on, Sal?” Larry murmured, giving his boyfriend a gentle squeeze. “If there’s anything -” 

“I want to die,” Sal blurted out, louder than he intended. “So I’ve been hiding here, cutting up my skin until I feel better. Less empty.”

Immediately Sal regretted what he had said, his stomach tensing. He always kept this stuff to himself. He never told anybody, not even Larry, or even his therapist, who was supposed to being helping him with his “depressive tendencies”, as she called it.

“I… I’m, uh…”

Suddenly Larry pulled away, and Sal could feel his boyfriends weight rest close to the edge of the bed before he rolled back over. 

“Put on your prosthetic, Sal. I wanna see.”

Sal felt his heart rate increase, and his breath shorten. He didn’t want Larry to see how disgusting he was. How compulsive and ugly he could be. 

“Please Sal. I just want to make sure they’re not dangerous.”

Larry slid Sal’s prosthetic underneath the blanket, and Sal shifted, enabling himself to grab the prosthetic and place it over his face. Normally he’d put in his glass eye first, but right now he didn’t feel up to bother with it.

Once on and secured, Sal sat up, letting his blanket fall off his face. He kept it close to his shoulders, keeping him warm and hiding anything below the crook of his elbows. 

Arms wrapped around Sal’s thin stature, pulling him against the chest of his boyfriend, who held him tightly, but not too tight. Tight enough for Sal to know he was safe.

Larry kissed the top of Sal’s head, gently squeezing him. “I love you, Sal.” 

Shifting slightly, Sal turned and laid his head upon Larry's chest. He loved listening to the sound of his lover's heartbeat; it was calming, grounding. 

“I love you too, Larry.”

Again, Larry pressed his lips against Sal’s head, pulling an arm away to run his fingers through the messy blue locks. 

They sat like that for several minutes, content. Sal shut his eyes, dozing slightly. He was so comfortable. 

He loved being with Larry.

“Sal.”

“Mmm?”

“Can I see your arms?”

“... Why is it so important?”

Larry smoothed down Sal’s hair, fixing the bedhead and light knots. 

“I want to make sure you're safe,” Larry murmured, “I'm worried that you could get an infection…”

Sal looked down, his arms hidden under his blanket. They weren't bad - he definitely had hurt himself worse - but Larry was so worried.

“Fine,” Sal muttered, nervously fidgeting with his blanket. “But don't act weird.”

“Promise.”

With a nervous intake of breath, Sal kicked off the blanket, exposing his thin, red-lined arms and a few, faint scars on his thighs where his boxers rolled up. 

Ugly. 

Larry gently took one arm in his hand, looking at the cuts intently before moving to the next arm. Sal flinched as Larry's fingers grazed over his wrist, but more so because the feeling was unfamiliar, not painful.

“Do they still hurt?” Larry asked quietly, intertwining his fingers with Sal’s. 

Sal shook his head. It felt like something was sitting on his chest, making it hard to breathe. They didn’t hurt anymore - they were several days old. The ones on his left thigh hurt, but he’d never mention those to Larry. 

Only if he saw, which he wouldn’t.

“Sal.”

If he saw, would he snitch? 

“Hey, Sal?”

Sal didn't want to be in the hospital again.

“Sally Face?”

Hands pulled away from hands.

“Breathe, Sal.”

Hands slid up a shirt, rubbing at tense back muscles.

“Sal, you need to -”

“Chest hurts.” Sal mumbled, leaning back against his boyfriend and letting out a shaky breath. Larry wouldn’t snitch. He wouldn’t. If he did -

“Sal!”

The blue-haired boy jerked, his legs kicking out in fear as grabbed at his sheets, wheezing slightly. He pressed up against Larry, whipping his head around to look at his boyfriend, who looked mildly stunned. 

“L-Larry -”

“Take a deep breath, Sal. Okay? Slowly, in and out.” 

Sal nodded, following Larry’s instructions. The smaller boy pressed himself up against his boyfriend as he did so, sitting himself in Larry’s lap. Larry wrapped his arms around Sal’s body, one hand still under his shirt, rubbing his back.

“You don’t have to talk about it anymore, okay? I’m not going to tell anyone. You’re safe, and that’s what’s most important to me right now.”

Sal could feel his chest lighten, likely from the mixture of more oxygen and the knowledge that Larry wasn't going to probe him anymore, and that he was going to keep it between the two of them.

He always trusted Larry’s word.

“I’m sorry if I pushed you too much there, Sal. I should have just left it alone instead of -”

Sal turned, pressing the mouth of his mask against Larry’s cheek, as if kissing him. 

“It’s… okay, Larry. Anyone would have done the same.”

Larry frowned, visibly concerned.

“Sal, does anyone else know?

“No, and it’s staying that way. Okay?” Sal said quickly, pulling back slightly. “I don’t want to worry my dad.”

Larry sighed, brushing some hair out of his face. “Okay.”

Sal cocked his head slightly. “That’s… all?”

“I said I wasn't going to ask you anything more, and that you didn’t need to talk about it anymore.”

Sal nodded, looking down at his wrists. A wave of uncertainty came over him, and he turned over his arms, uncomfortable by the sight of himself. He wanted Larry to ask more, to ask why and how he cut himself, but it was more of a sick curiosity of Sal’s than what Larry would want. He could already tell Larry was uncomfortable, concerned and not curious, but going to respect Sal’s boundaries even if the smaller boy pushed him.

“I’m sorry,” Sal found himself saying, “I know that... No one really wants to deal with this kind of stuff. It’s fucked up. I just… it’s easier than bottling stuff up. I hate talking to people about things and cutting is so easy to hide and -”

“Sal, slow down,” Larry said, giving Sal and squeeze, “You’re gonna work yourself up again.”

Sal frowned underneath his prosthetic. “I am not.”

“You sound like you are.”

“Am not!”

“You totally fucking are, dude. As of like, five minutes ago.”

Sal could feel his face flush, scowling as he snapped, “I’m not trying to!”

“I know.” Larry replied, his tone softer, “Just take it easy. Don’t let everything bubble over and make yourself freak out.”

“You sound high.”

This caused Larry to laugh, and Sal let out a small giggle, watching as Larry’s face flushed, a goofy smile on his face. Sal rest his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder, smiling underneath his mask.

_He’s so cute._

When Larry managed to stifle his laughter, he reached for Sal's hands, intertwining their fingers. The blue-haired boy squeezed his boyfriends hands gently, comforting himself as he knew that Larry wasn't mad at him.

The same went for Larry, who lazily rubbed his thumb against Sal’s hand, resting his cheek slightly on the top of Sal’s head.

Neither of the two knew exactly how to approach the subject, but both could tell there was a want, a _need_ , to talk about it, especially from Sal’s side. Sal always acted as if everything was fine, as if he had everything was under control. It had always been Larry to be teary-eyed, or to smoke to ease his anxieties. It had crossed his mind before that yes, maybe Sal wasn't letting on as much as what was really going on, but he hadn’t thought is was this bad. This was… 

“Larry?”

Larry blinked, losing his train of thought as Sal reached up to prod his cheek.

“You _are_ high, aren't you?”

With a snort, Larry shook his head. “Thinking.”

“Ah,” Sal looked away, glancing back at his wrists. “Y'know, they aren't… bad. They could be worse.”

Larry frowned. “That doesn't mean they aren't important to talk about now.”

Sal nodded. “I guess.”

There was an awkward pause between the two, and Sal shifted nervously, opening and closing his mouth several times as he tried to think of what to say.

Thank god Larry couldn't see his face.

Another ugly piece of him.

“I've been cutting for, uh… Um… Three years? Four? Since before I started high school I guess. It helps me with feeling? Or, uh, stopping how numb I feel.” Sal mumbled, his heart starting to race. “I’ve been hiding it since I started. You're the first person I've told. It's not like… other people haven't noticed, but no one's cared enough to bring it up to a teacher or therapist or whoever.”

Sal paused, letting himself take a shaky breath. It felt like he had just ran a block, not admitted something so… dumb.

“So it's your way of coping? Or like… like a… way to feel something? Or to ease what you feel?”

Sal glanced sideways at Larry, who didn't look at all what the teen expected - not at all disgusted or upset, but more so a wanting to understand why and what Sal was going through. 

Looking back down, Sal gave a short nod. He didn't know what to say now. Apparently neither did Larry, as he just continued to hold onto Sal, planting a small kiss on the top of his head. Sal stifled a yawn, reaching under his prosthetic to wipe some sleep from his eyes. He had been sleeping so much lately, and missing a lot of school. His dad had questioned him earlier this week, but Sal had just shrugged him off, pretending he had a really bad sore throat. Thankfully his dad had believed him, and Sal had been able to spend the past three days hiding out in his room.

“Sally Face.”

“Larry Face.”

“When you're like… feeling really bad, you can talk to me, y'know? Even if it's often. Or at like, 3am. You could just scribble some thoughts out and slide them under my door. Or whatever is easiest.”

“I don't want to be a burden.”

“Do you tell that to your therapist?”

Sal stiffened, and immediately Larry gave him a long squeeze, burying his face into Sal’s neck. 

He knew he had struck a nerve.

“I love you, Sal.”

“I love you too, Larry.”

Larry kissed Sal's neck, moving to kiss behind his ear. “I just want you to have someone to talk to. Helping you isn't a burden on me - not ever.”

“That's…” Sal broke off, turning to stare at the wall. It felt sincere, but the voice in the back of his head told him it wasn't. 

“Hard to believe, I know. I don't fucking care, I'm going to help you as much as I can. I love you so fucking much, Sal. You can come to me with anything. Like… Like if you cut yourself, or wanna die, or anything, you can tell me. I won't let you struggle alone.”

Sal sniffled a little - he could feel tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. He turned, wrapping his arms around Larry, burying his face into his neck. 

“S-Sal…”

“Larry Face.” 

Larry rubbed Sal’s back, holding his boyfriend tightly against him. He could hear the sniffles coming from his partner, and Larry remained silent, rubbing circles into Sal's back.

The duo remained quiet for several minutes, Larry massaging Sal's back as the smaller boy calmed his sobbing, only breaking into small sniffles occasionally. Sal let out a sigh before yawning, his shoulders relaxing and fingers releasing their grip on Larry's shirt.

“I’m tired.” Sal murmured, pulling back and lifting up his prosthetic slightly so that he could wipe away the tears that remained on his face.

Larry nodded, knowing better than to start interrogating his boyfriend right away. He let Sal scoot off his lap and onto the bed. “You wanna take a nap?”

“Yeah… Even though I’ve been sleeping all day.”

“You sound like you need a nap, dude. Like, you sound exhausted.”

“Mentally.”

Larry frowned and stared at Sal, who in turn stared back. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before Larry asked, “Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” Sal replied, “I'd like it if you stayed.”

“Of course.”

Sal reached for his blanket, only to pause before reaching behind his head. Larry watched as Sal fumbled with the prosthetic straps - were his hands always this shakey? - his eyes occasionally glancing at Sal’s wrists, covered in cuts and faint scarring. He hadn't ever questioned why Sal always wore long sleeved clothes, even in the summer. It had just been his _thing _, and Larry had accepted it.__

____

__

If he _had_ brought it up though, would it have changed anything? 

Somehow, Larry doubted it.

At least he could better support Sal now.

“Larry.”

Larry blinked. Once again he had spaced out.

“You might not be high, but you're spacey as hell.” 

Sal was hiding his face behind his mask as he said this.

Larry huffed, shaking his head. “I'm thinking.”

“About?”

“You.”

“Oh.”

Sal turned away, pulling the blankets over him before discarding his prosthetic. 

“You don't need to worry about me,” Sal said, his voice muffled slightly by the blanket, “I'm not going to kill myself or anything. It's just thoughts.”

Larry laid down, pulling the blanket over him too.

“I wasn't thinking about that, but thanks for the reminder. I forgot you mentioned that.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

Larry grinned, nudging closer to Sal. 

“With pleasure.”

“Larry!”

“I'm joking!”

“You're disgusting!”

“Says the guy who licked his cat.”

“T-That was one time!”

Larry snorted in laughter, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. 

“Yeah, one time, three months ago.”

“I…” Sal faltered before huffing, glaring at the wall. 

Larry kissed behind Sal’s ear, smiling slightly. Sal let out a contented sigh, his ears reddened from embarrassment.

“I love you, Sal,” Larry murmured, again kissing Sal’s neck, “and I hope you know I'll do anything to help you.”

There was a pause before Sal replied, “I love you too.”

With that, Sal pulled a pillow close and pressed it against his face, signalling he didn't want to talk anymore.

He didn't want to have to think about how disgusting he is, and how he let Larry see that.

He felt lucky enough that Larry didn't just straight up leave, or go tell his dad, or call him gross.

Sal was already gross enough.

“I'm gonna sleep. I'll… talk to you more about stuff when I wake up, maybe. Promise not to leave until then?” 

“Promise.”

“And -"

“Everything's between us,” Larry interrupted, “and I'm only running to an adult if I think you're going to actually do something to majorly harm yourself, right?”

Sal nodded. “Yeah.”

“Cool.”

A silence overcame the two, and Sal relaxed against Larry, and Larry held Sal close. It wasn't long before Larry could hear Sal's breathing slow, turning into soft intakes and exhales of breath.

He may of not been expecting anything that Sal had told him, but Larry was glad that Sal felt safe enough to open up to him. 

That's really all that Larry wanted, was for Sal to feel safe and comfortable enough to come to Larry for support.

He'd do whatever he could to make sure that'd happen.

Right now he just needed to be there for Sal, and that he would be.

 

* * *

The bedroom door opened, and Gizmo sprinted into the room and onto the bed, curling up at Sal’s feet. Mr. Fisher glanced around the room before turning off the bedroom light, letting the two boys continue sleeping.

As long as Larry was there, he knew that Sal was alright, and that sooner or later, his son would open up to him too.

**Author's Note:**

> another vent fic from yours truly!! sorry if it's messy, incoherent, out of character, etc.... i give up at being any sort of sensible
> 
> anyways thanks for kudos, bookmarks, etc!! ✌️


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